


Squish

by WhoopsOK



Series: Damp [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Diapers, Gross, Masturbation, Other, Scat, Shitwank, Squick, Stand Alone, Wetting, potty play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean knows that Sam and Castiel don’t think his “Pissing Thing” is bad or dirty, but this is something different."</p>
<p>(Stand Alone in Damp Verse. Heed the tags.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squish

**Author's Note:**

> Doll, if you’re not looking for poop, you stopped in the wrong station.

At first, Dean hadn’t really seen the appeal of them going on dates separately. It had always been the three of them, the Winchester Boys – even the drafted one – against the world, practically connected at the hip and better for it. When they got over themselves and their own guilt and started hooking up, he saw it as just another way to be closer to the two men he loved most. He couldn’t understand why Sam thought he would ever want to be separate from them.

But life has a way of catching up with you and it became apparent that some problems aren’t meant to be solved by throwing three bodies at them. Like when Dean wants to get in Baby and just floor it for a while with nobody riding shotgun but Judas Priest. Or when Sam and Dean decide it’s fight night and wrestle across the bunker, a type of play Castiel doesn’t particularly favor over quietly people-watching on a park bench. Or the pottery class that Castiel and Sam thought was some sort of fucking revelation of entertainment, that made Dean feel like a recovering punk kid in a room full of giggling, middle-aged moms.

So yeah, it’s the three of them and it always will be, but sometimes they like to date each other one on one. Their history is irrevocably mixed up, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have quirks that mesh better with one lover than the other.

What that boils down to is that Dean has known for weeks that Sam and Castiel are going to the opening night of some chick-flick atrocity at the theatre in the next town over and he’s going to have the night to himself.

He’s been planning the events of this night for a while and his stomach is rolling with more than just anticipation and mild guilt.

Dean knows that Sam and Castiel don’t think his “Pissing Thing” is bad or dirty, but this is something different. The planning for this night started weeks ago when Dean had the _vague_ thought, while Sam was changing Castiel’s diaper that at least Sam didn’t have to worry about them shitting themselves.

And it _was_ just a vague thought, he didn’t really intend to go anywhere with it. But when he wakes up from a dream involving a very full diaper and doesn’t even have time to get his hand around himself before he comes, well, a guy’s got to pay at least a _little_ attention to something like that, right? So as in many previous cases when he discovers new Things about himself, he finds himself on the internet, horrified at how quickly he goes hard as nails. Though the sounds initially make his face twist up, the idea seeming foul even with the arousal tingling slightly in his gut, the whole thing sits close enough to pissing that he understands the appeal. He isn’t on such a hair trigger that _hearing_ someone pee gets his engine going, but _listening_ to someone pee could take him miles. He finds that listening to the sounds of defecation feels very similar, especially when it’s someone who’s been running to get there and finally – _finally_ – gets to let it all go, gets to _empty_ themselves? It’s so fucking _raw._ The relief visible in their bodies as they finally _push_ out what’s had them all backed up, after everything finally just _relaxes_ and comes out _,_ has him groaning and spilling into his hand, aching for it.

So yeah, he decides to give it a whirl; just once, just to see! No commitment, nobody has to know, no big deal. And, hey, there’s no harm in trying to make sure this whirl is worth it and there’s no real downside to eating better – well, besides the taste. He’s been eating an annoying amount of vegetables for the past week.

Actually, it’s probably better to say he’s been eating a suspicious amount of vegetables, because Dean doesn’t normally _ask_ to be the one to get the groceries, so Sam and Castiel notice immediately – narrowed eyes sharing a glance – when he does. Though, coming back from the store with flavored condoms in addition to the normal purchases – including adult diapers – does dispel their suspicion enough for them to dismiss it as Dean being an unrepentant pervert. It’s correct, even if for the wrong reasons, so Dean just takes their eye-rolls in with fondness and relief.

But he couldn’t distract them from the way his eating habits changed for long. He’d gotten Greek yogurt and granola and more fresh fruit than the bunker had ever seen at one time. He’s been drinking apple juice and eating lots of fiber and “healthy fats” (what the _fuck_ ) and that rabbit food Sam likes. Dean, the carnivore, actually bought _and_ ate _kale._ He made a bean fucking salad and it was _delicious_ – even to him!

Sam notices immediately, but (after Dean assures him it isn’t because of health scare or to butter him up for something) it just makes him _extremely_ happy. The joy in Sam’s face when Dean brings out a casserole (vegetable, yes, but loaded with butter and garlic because, come _on_ ) or Sam catches him having a “healthy snack” (unsalted popcorn is not allowed in the bunker ever again) makes Dean feel a little underhanded. He can’t deny he feels better, but he wishes it was the reason he did this, not the side effect of doing it. He wonders if Sam would be ashamed of him if he knew… But then again, Sam and Cas are happy with him, so Dean doesn’t care. Even if his shitty little experiment doesn’t pan out, he can eat his veggies like a big boy long term, fine, whatever.

But as it is, everything is going according to plan. His tummy has been trying to force him to let go for two days now, but he’s forcing himself to hold on until tonight.

He sits down his second cup of coffee and kisses Sam and Castiel goodbye as they head to the door. The theatre and Castiel’s favorite pho place are both in the next town over. And if Dean knows them well – and he does – they’ll probably fool around in the car before they actually come back. He’s got over 3 hours to make this tummy ache worth it.

At first, when the door closes behind them, Dean stands from the sofa, but doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. The anticipation makes his stomach roll with the urge to—well, _shit_ , yeah, but he doesn’t want to make a mess of his pants and he…isn’t ready just yet. He feels like he’ll know when it’s really time. He snags one of Castiel’s diapers, sliding the familiar softness up his legs and cupping himself through it once he’s properly situated. His dick is already starting to show a little interest, the drag of his hand making him close his eyes and sigh.

Aiming for simplistic, he decides he’s just going to sit on the couch, watch some TV, and not get up no matter what. That plan works for all of about ten minutes before the added pressure his backed up colon is putting on his bladder makes itself known. He knows he likes pissy diapers, so why not start off with something he’s _sure_ he’ll enjoy? Staring absently at the screen, Dean can feel his face getting warm as he none too casually runs his hands over his diaper to make sure it’s properly on, before deciding he’s too horny to be bothered. If it leaks, he’ll dump some beer on the couch to disguise the stain, easy-peasy.

Dean spreads his legs and tips his head back; he has to focus a moment, his half-chub making it difficult to go, but eventually hot piss is leaking down his dick and spreading through the diaper, the soft sound of his own stream more enthralling than the television. By the time the warmth settles under his balls, he’s started to roll his hips into the dampness, head tipped back and mouth open as he grinds his hands down on his crotch. He doesn’t really mean to get distracted with this part, but he _loves_ this feeling, of his dicky – _shit,_ he’s feeling little – his dicky all covered in peepee and getting hard and sticky with his pre-cummies and rubbing into the diaper all warm and soft and _damp_.

And he feels so _full_. Sammy has let Cassie fuck Dean in a wet diaper before and this feels close, but so _, so_ much dirtier. His ass feels tight with the shit he’s holding back and his tummy is all swirly and his dicky is getting _so hard,_ he wants to—

His train of thought derails abruptly when his tummy cramps so hard he almost loses his breath, eyes snapping open and hands flying to his tummy as he gasps.

_Shit_ is trying to force its way out of his asshole without him even consciously pushing and even before it breaches him, he can tell it’s _huge._ Three days’ worth of good, healthy, poop-inducing foods are suddenly packed together in his tight, little ass hole and trying to get out, _now, five minutes ago, yesterday._

Thirty something, hunter, tough-guy Dean Winchester is about to shit himself.

A sense of blind panic overtakes him and he jumps up from the couch, whimpering and holding his butt tightly with one hand. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s fighting it for – he _planned_ this, he’s wearing a _diaper_ – but he’s a little hurt and a little scared and a _little_. Pressing his piss wet diaper tight against his ass like a toddler makes him feel a little more secure, even if he knows it’s only going to last a moment or so, so fuck you, he’s gonna hold himself.

When his stomach cramps again, he’s moving before he even really thinks about where to, a high pitched whine escaping him the whole time as he quickly waddles his way down the hall. He thinks he knows what he was waiting for when he gets to the bathroom and catches sight of himself in the mirror. The flush of his skin, the way his chest is heaving… the knowledge in his eyes that he’s _turned on by the idea of watching himself lose control._

The mirror isn’t meant to come off the wall, but it’s already lose from previous mishandling and Dean has yet to get around to fixing it. It makes an unholy snapping sound when he tugs, but all in all comes free pretty easily.

He’s just lowered it to the floor when a new wave of pain hits him so hard he doubles over and, to his horror and deep arousal, the motion relaxes his asshole enough that it suddenly stretches wide around the tip of a truly massive turd as it forces its way out of his stinging anus.

A desperate moan breaks out of Dean as the sensation sends him to his hands and knees, the burn only comparable to getting fucked with barely enough lube and hardly enough prep. He’s had that before – Sam feeling mean enough to shove it in hard and deep just to hear Dean scream – and he loves this almost as much, moaning and shaking at the feeling of his own shit wrenching open his asshole without any say so from him, trailing the warm poop stickily against his ass cheeks. When he remembers to open his eyes, he starts gasping for breath when he looks in the mirror and realizes he can _see it_.

His big brown snake is still sliding – hissing and crackling – out of his ass, causing a large brown bulge in the already piss stained material to stick out sharply from his ass. He watches with wide eyes as he vacates himself into the diaper, the smell filling the room and his stomach suddenly feeling so much _lighter_ , the diaper sagging heavy between his legs with the evidence as to why. Just when he thinks it’s over, his stomach gives one final lurch, gurgling loudly and twisting with cramps. Dean’s breath hisses out through his teeth and he grunts, giving into the urge to _push_.

The rest of the hard poop passes like a shot and suddenly there’s near liquid shit streaming out of him, hot and fast and flowing down, hot and sticky, over his balls.

He’s so turned on and relieved he can barely breathe, his body feeling light and sated as if with orgasm even though he’s still hard and on edge in his diaper.

Breathing harshly out his mouth, he reaches around himself to touch the bulge in his nappy and moans when he realizes it’s more than would fit in his hand without the diaper to hold it in. He squeezes with his hand, the diaper making a satisfying squishing sound as he does, and shuts his eyes and goes ass up at the mushy feeling his own poop has against his skin. He drags his hand around to the non-poop bulge in the front, feeling himself up.

Turning around, he sits down flat on the floor, groaning as poop pushes up his ass crack and forwards towards his dick. He starts rocking and grinding on it like he’s riding his own turd, then wonders hysterically if there’s a way he could actually _do_ that without mashing it up. Grabbing himself through the diaper, he starts stroking himself off before realizing that’s not what he wants to do.

He wants to hump something in his poopy diaper.

One of the stuffies crosses his mind, but then his little brain thinks they would be offended and he would never disrespect them like that. He considers the wall but that feels stupid even to his lust dazed brain. He opts to just lay down on his tummy on the bathroom rug, even just the shallow pumping of his hips sending shockwaves down his spine, the mass of poop squishing tackily as his ass clenches and relaxes. He feels like he’s getting off after being fucked raw and that drags his mind back to Sammy.

He starts to imagine getting spanked for this, wonders if Sammy would leave the diaper on or do it bare assed, poop scarcely scraped away beforehand. Then he wonders how much poop one diaper can even hold. Three days’ worth seems to be staying in well enough, but what if he were to take one of Castiel’s pooped diapers and put it on and then poop in it _again_ and then have _Sam_ —

The sound he makes when he comes is loud enough that he’s sure it echoes down the hall as he comes in his shitty diaper, tense and shivering, before collapsing into a boneless, breathless heap on the ground.

It’s when he’s there lying on the floor – sweaty and panting and with a diaper full of shit still sticking to his ass – that it hits him; hey, he’s gonna have to clean this up.

…Shit.

Literally.

He lets himself bask in the afterglow for a moment longer, before hauling up onto shaking legs – the shit a lot less arousing now that it was cooling off as he waddled over to the toilet. Scraping off what he could with the relatively clean bits of diaper and toilet paper, he shoves the diaper in the middle of the trash, before jumping in the shower. The water is way too hot, even for Dean, but he scrubs until the water runs clean and his skin is pink and raw. He even takes a (rather self-indulgent) moment to gently finger around his sore asshole. He tosses the loofa into the trash and wipes out the tub with bleach before tying the trash bag tightly and taking it out and shoving it in the middle of the big can outside. He is not an amateur at hiding evidence.

When he comes back, he sprays air freshener down the hall and lights that loud smelling pink candle Castiel bought at the mall a few months back and sets it in the bathroom. He walks in and out several times to make sure he hasn’t gone nose-blind to any lingering smells before he decides it smells clean, if a little _too_ much so. He dabs on some aftershave just to be on the safe side.

It isn’t until he’s standing in his softest pajamas, that he lets himself think about how much he enjoyed that. It was a little more tedious than pee play, but there’s no denying how hard he came, the way he’s reveling in how soft and clean he feels after he purged himself from the inside and then scrubbed his outside tender. And the idea that he has this naughty game he can play, all for himself, and then hide it away actually makes him feel a bit of a rush. Even if he has to sit with his ass tilted off the couch as he eats his dinner – he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he suddenly has three days’ worth of space to fill – he can’t say it was a bad time. He knows he doesn’t want it to be a regular thing (pun retroactively intended), but he still finds himself blushing at the idea of even just _maybe_ doing it again someday; a vacation into the depraved.

When Castiel and Sam get back – just as flushed and as pleased as he is – they’re none the wiser that Dean has a new dirty little secret.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…be sure to eat some fruits and veggies today!


End file.
